Chapter 14 #2
“It’s not. Sarah wanted revenge for something you didn’t even do.
If it wasn’t me she tried to hurt, it would have been Monique or Michael or someone else you care about.
” I grappled for words to ease his angst. “She could have easily killed Monique if she wanted to. It’s lucky she had me to focus on, when you think about it.
It’s lucky BJ had a bad feeling, it’s lucky you came when you did.
What happened was terrible, and it was traumatic for everyone.
” My voice filled with emotion as I moved over to him and took his hand gently in mine. “But none of it was your fault.”
“You could have been killed because of me.”
I shook my head. “No, Karson, not because of you, because of Sarah.”
He looked away, unable to meet my eye. He swallowed and rasped, “You are far too forgiving.”
“There’s nothing to forgive when it comes to you.”
There was a long pause as he merely stared at me, a mixture of emotions whirling through his eyes. Finally, he said, “There is so much you don’t know about me.”
It twisted me up inside to hear him so raw, so vulnerable, so ravaged.
“I don’t need to know everything about your past, only the parts you choose to share.” My thumb swept over his knuckles. “Perhaps looking at the past serves no purpose but to distract from our present circumstances.”
He smiled. It was a tiny movement of his lips, but there was the man I knew, the man I loved. If only he loved me …
“Michael would be pleased his somewhat tiresome lectures are being put to good use.”
“It’s not Michael I care to please.” I wasn’t sure where the words came from—they sounded ancient and corny, even to me—but they just kind of tumbled out, no corn filter to hold them. Heat warmed my cheeks as embarrassment took hold.
His gaze drank in my face, as if seeing me blush was a thing of beauty. “Dance with me?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. One hand scooped my hip and pulled me in, while the second settled on the small of my back. A curling sensation fluttered in my stomach and—lower.
I smiled as I placed my hands on his shoulders. “There’s no music.”
“One would think a witch may be able to fix that with a simple thought.”
I peered up nervously, shyly, yearning to pull him closer. “Or we could make our own music.” Oh my God, did I really just say that?
I felt my blush grow hotter.
His laughter filled the room, and I didn’t need music with a sound so beautiful caressing my ears. Then the sound faded, and he stared down with something soft, something serious, and yet there was a sparkle in his eyes for the first time since I woke here.
He leaned into my ear and murmured, “For tonight, I’d be most honored if you would simply dance with me.”
He’d had years of practice; his movements were skilled and fluid. I would be hard-pressed not to turn his toes into pancakes. I bit my bottom lip. “I’m not a very good dancer.”
“I know.”
I laughed as I took my hand from his shoulder and flicked it toward the stereo, as my mind whispered play. “Take My Breath Away” floated through the room.
When I placed my hand back on his shoulder, I stepped in closer, a tingle rushing through my entire body as just being close to him made every cell spring to life.
The scent of something like honey, musk, and fresh flowers with a hint of cinnamon rolled through my nose. We moved slowly from side to side.
“This was the first song we danced to,” I sighed happily.
His hand slipped up and down my back. I closed my eyes, melting into his chest before my mind could stop my body. “It is a song,” he murmured into my hair, “and a moment I will never forget.”
I pulled my cheek off his chest and craned to look up at him. “I won’t forget it either. I especially won’t forget the part when you ran off with Rebecca.”
His lips curled up as he groaned, “Why do I have a feeling I’m going to hear about that particular faux pas for a long time yet.”
Was that a promise he was going to be with me for a long time? Or was I reading more into the comment than I should? I couldn’t help the smile that edged my lips. “Oh, you will. Every argument we have, I’m going to throw it in your face.”
He chuckled. “In my defense, I was doing my utmost to stay away from you.”
My grin fell. He hated witches with every cell of his body. The rage he felt toward them, toward my kind …
I tensed and eased away from him. “Because I’m a witch?”
He pulled me back in closer until I was cocooned against his body. “Yes, because you are a witch, because I should have despised the mere sight of you.” His brow flickered as if he was confused. “And yet I was drawn to you, as if you were the solitary desert flower and I was the starved bee.”
Tension gave way to joy bubbling in my chest. I felt the same when I first laid eyes on him.
A connection, a spark I couldn’t resist. I fell deeply in love with him as a man.
Except he wasn’t a man, he was a vampire, and not long after I discovered I was not normal at all and witch’s blood swirled in my veins.
The world had turned on an axis and another realm had opened itself, and finally, after a lifetime of feeling I didn’t fit in anywhere, I felt like some vital pieces I’d been missing from my life were beginning to fall into place.
He nuzzled his nose against my ear and breathed, “I didn’t know what to do, you scared me.”
I stopped dancing and blinked up at him, shocked. “I scared you?”
Karson’s eyes were soft as he brushed a thumb over my cheek. “Not in a physical sense, but there are far worse agonies to feel than physical pain, Amelia.”
Emotional suffering was a much crueler beast. A broken heart could mend … eventually, but once it was shattered it was never quite the same again. Was that what he meant? He cared for me, that much was obvious.
Love was a different matter.
I wondered how many times over the centuries his heart had been broken.
By people he loved—women he loved. That thought churned green in my stomach.
Pathetic. How pathetic to feel jealous over past lovers.
But he must have lost too. I began to understand why he was so closed off, why he kept his emotions buried someplace deep.
He didn’t want to be hurt. As a vampire, he would have lost so many people he loved.
Had to live through so many deaths. That was the terrible price of immortality.
I wanted to tell him I would never hurt him. For as long as he wanted me by his side, I would never leave. But that wasn’t a promise I could keep. It was not a promise any mortal could keep.
I rested my hand gently on his cheek. “I can’t promise never to hurt you, but I can promise never to leave you while ever I have a choice.” I wasn’t even sure if he wanted me to stay.
He analyzed my face for a long moment, as if he was trying to read something deeper between the lines.
My hand fell away and I stared at the buttons on his shirt. “Surely, you must know I’d never hurt you intentionally.”
“Amelia.” His fingers cradled my chin and tilted it up to look at him. “I know you’d never deliberately hurt me.”
“You don’t trust witches though, and I’m a …” my voice dropped, rasped, as I said the word, “witch.”
A muscle in his jaw tensed. “You are a witch, but you’re smart and beautiful and strong and kind. Why is it so hard for you to believe I’d be drawn to you?”
Other than the fact that I was a long way from beautiful? “Your history.”
He stilled, a confliction of emotions crossing his features. Was that guilt I could see? “Perhaps looking at the past or the future serves no purpose but to distract from our present circumstances.” That tiny tug lifted the corner of his lips.
Relief loosened my chest as I smiled.
Karson’s eyes darkened. Not with rage, not as they did when he was thinking dark thoughts.
His gaze flooded with desire. He leaned down and his lips met mine in a kiss that was sweet and soft and almost tentative.
A bolt of desire shot through my groin, dampening my underwear.
I wrapped my hands around his neck and urged his mouth to move harder against mine.
A deep, primal groan rumbled from his throat as he responded, taking my mouth as if he owned it.
I melted into the feel of his tongue sweeping across mine, of his hands clawing my ass.
He picked me up in a lithe motion, and my legs automatically wrapped around his hips, but when he sat me on the couch, his lips left mine.
He moved, as fast as a flicker of a shadow, and the next thing I knew the curtains were drawn and the door was snapped shut.
In the next second, my jeans and underwear were discarded on the floor.
Karson dropped to his knees, one hand spreading my thighs while the other … his fingers buried themselves inside me, sliding in and out with exquisite slowness. Sparks exploded through me, and I rocked my hips and moaned.
He kissed my thigh. “You, Amelia, will be the undoing of me.” His voice was husky, raw, sexy, and tingled to my core. Each slide of his fingers sent a wave of heat rushing through my body.
“There’s only one part of you I want to bring undone,” I breathed.
He smiled, his eyes molten with desire. “And you shall, but not tonight.”
“What? You can’t start this then stop, that’s torture.” There was a whine in my voice. A begging. I tried not to think how pathetically desperate I sounded.
His thumb circled the wetness around my clit slowly. Not quite touching it, driving my body insane for more. “If this is torture, then torture is my new favorite game.”
“It’s mine too.” An insatiable urge consumed me to be touched all over, to be filled with his cock. I sat up and reached for his arms, trying to urge him higher, but he placed a palm on my shoulder and pushed me back down.
“Patience.” His mouth moved between my legs, and the protest on my lips became a whimper.
He sucked, licked and teased my clit as his tongue sank inside me.
The sparks became fire as an orgasm hovered on the fringes.
He slowed his pace as if he sensed I was about to come undone.
His mouth left my pussy and kissed my thigh, the rough edge of his stubble teasing my entrance.
He slid a finger inside me and pressed it upwards.
His other hand slipped up my shirt, his thumb teasing my nipple.
I arched up under his touch and tried to drag him to me.
“More,” I moaned.
“Not yet,” he murmured, spreading my legs wider. “I want to watch you come.”
I could feel the heat building in my body like an incoming wave.
Two fingers went in, his thumb circling my clit.
I fought to hold off the orgasm—we’d barely started.
But he sank his fingers into me abruptly and I came undone.
He studied my face, his eyes dark and stormy as I cried out his name and my body rocked with spasms. His mouth moved back to sucking and licking at my pussy until my body stopped twitching.
We were both panting as he rose, lifting me to my feet by my waist.
My fingers tugged at his shirt, pulling it from his trousers. They trailed up his hard chest, his nipples hardening under my touch. “I want to fuck you,” I breathed.
“I know.” He buried his face into my hair and murmured, “And I want you, gods I want you so bad I ache. But not tonight.” He captured my hands and pulled them away, holding them like a barrier between us.
“I need to feed and sleep because the way I’m feeling right now …
” He swallowed hard. “I might not be able to control myself and I don’t want to hurt you. ”
“You won’t,” I said.
“I might, and it’s not a chance I will take.”
He let go of my hands and cradled my face, sweeping his fingers through my hair softly, before he leaned down and kissed my forehead. “Sleep well.”
Then he was gone. And like some mocking twist from a higher being, the song “Wicked Game” joined the empty pulse of my groin.